


Love At First Sight (Doesn't Sound Right)

by Raehimura



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: 2017, Also Teasing Baze Mercilessly, Chirrut "Seeing" Baze, Day One, First Impressions, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, SpiritAssassin Week, They Don't Know They're Flirting Yet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, spiritassassin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 19:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10725669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raehimura/pseuds/Raehimura
Summary: When Chirrut overhears a younger initiate expounding on the virtues of Baze's features, he reminds his friend that he has never seen his face. Baze corrects this immediately.Spiritassassin Week Day 1: First Impressions





	Love At First Sight (Doesn't Sound Right)

Baze had just finished an afternoon of work in the Temple’s gardens, settling in for a few moments of quiet contemplation (that may have been more an excuse to sit with the sun on his shoulders and the smell of fresh earth surrounding him), when a familiar voice called his name across the courtyard.

Chirrut Imwe could move silently when he chose to. But he so rarely chose to.

“Baze Malbus, I have just heard the most fascinating news,” he announced as he drew closer. 

The curve of Chirrut’s lips was wicked, and Baze was sure he’d either come to tease or to gossip. Either way, there was little he could do to dissuade him.

“According to one earnest initiate, you are absolutely the most handsome acolyte studying for the sixth duan,” he announced dramatically, settling down next to Baze with a swish of robes.

“W-what?” Baze spluttered, taken aback by the idea and the loud, delighted way Chirrut made the pronouncement. His face felt warm.

At least Chirrut was pleased, if his giggling was anything to go by. Baze frowned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chirrut.”

“Me? I’m but the messenger,” Chirrut parried, unashamed. “Your admirer was the one espousing your virtues to the whole dining hall.”

Baze buried his face in his hands with a groan, shoulders inching up at Chirrut’s continued giggling. He knew his face was red with embarrassment, and the thought made him petulant. Finally, Chirrut took pity on him, quieting his laughter and patting Baze’s shoulder companionably.

“Oh come now, it’s not so bad. Every year the young initiates make a show of admiring the most talented of the older acolytes. And we are getting closer to full guardianship. I’m sure she’s not the first to notice and admire your skills.”

“There are many other promising acolytes studying for the sixth and seventh duan,” Baze muttered into his lap. “I don’t see why anyone should single me out for such attention.”

“You give yourself too little credit, as usual.” Chirrut sighed. It was not the first time he’d made that particular point. Not even the first time this week. “Of course, as for the … other things she was admiring, I can’t say much one way or the other as I have never seen your face.”

That brought Baze up short. Chirrut didn’t seem to notice he had said anything profound: it was said in that same lilting tone, soothing Baze’s embarrassment while still lightly teasing. But Baze could not believe he had failed to realize the obvious. They had known each other since Chirrut came to the Temple as a foundling, had grown to be close friends over the last few years, and the sight of his friend’s broad, radiant grin had brightened many of his days.

Baze never thought of Chirrut as disadvantaged — he had been wiping the floor with opponents and wrapping their peers around his finger from the day they had first met. But this one small thing seemed so unfair.

“Would you like to?” Baze found himself offering before realizing he was going to. Some among the elder guardians had lost their sight over the years, and Baze had seen them examine faces with their fingers, had seen Chirrut do the same to some of his closer friends. He had never asked Baze, and it had never occurred to him to offer before. He was not sure he should have now.

Before he could apologize for the presumption or retract the offer, Chirrut turned to him with an eager smile.

“Yes,” he answered quickly, leaning forward. “After all, I’d like to know for myself the truth of this initiate’s claims.”

Baze grunted skeptically, but he turned to face him and settled in. After a moments hesitation, he used the sleeve of his discarded outer robes to wipe the sweat of the day’s work from his face and then dropped his hands to his lap, nodding uselessly. “Um, okay.”

For a moment, Chirrut just sat facing him, pinning him with a gaze unseeing but _seeing_. His usual grin softened, his jaw set like he was attempting to parse one of Master Venath’s lectures. Baze had never felt so much of Chirrut’s singleminded focus on himself before. He had the urge to fidget under such a gaze, but he caught himself as Chirrut slowly raised both hands, holding himself perfectly still under the first feather-light touch.

Chirrut’s fingers were fine-boned but strong, covered in callouses matching his own. Yet as they moved over Baze’s face, they seemed impossibly smooth, nothing but a sure, soft pressure along his skin. Baze had felt these fingers before, against his arm when they sparred or gripped in his as Chirrut helped him to his feet. But he had never before had the chance (or the inclination) to linger on them.

Though Chirrut had begun hesitantly, he now took his time, absorbed in his task. He ran light fingertips across Baze’s forehead and swiped thumbs gently under his eyes, while Baze watched the lines of concentration pinch between his friend’s brows. He could feel puffs of warm breath against his cheek and, as the moments passed by, his own breathing settled to match Chirrut’s, lengthening out to a basic meditative rhythm.

Baze was surprised to find it peaceful, like an early morning alone in the soft light of his favorite nook in the Temple’s archives. Once he stopped worrying about how to hold his face or what to do with his own hands, he found it easy to be here with Chirrut, in the quiet of their shared breathing. And if that was the third time Chirrut’s careful fingers had run along the rise of his cheeks or the dip of his brows, Baze said nothing of the apparent repetition.

When Chirrut’s fingertips traced softly along the shell of one ear, Baze felt the beginnings of a fond smile threatening to surface. As Chirrut’s hand brushed the curve of his skull and skimmed along the fine bristles of freshly shaved hair there, Baze caught the smile forming on Chirrut’s lips, distracted and terribly fond.

Baze’s next exhale was shaky and too loud, caught off guard by the lightness in his chest and the sudden weight of the air between them. Chirrut startled, the smile falling from his face as he drew his hands back too quickly to be casual. Baze was unaccountably colder for the few inches Chirrut put between them. 

The silence stretched between them.

“Well,” Chirrut said after a pause, a little breathless. “I must admit my friend, your lovestruck initiate may have been exaggerating just a little.”

Baze was grateful Chirrut had withdrawn his hands when he felt the burn of a blush on his cheeks again, hunching his shoulders with a huff. “I told you as much.”

Chirrut put his fingers to his lips in a show of contemplation, a small measure of mirth stealing back into his features. “No, your features are too unique to be named merely ‘handsome.’ You have kind eyes, Baze, and your jaw shows strength. You hold more weight than you should in your brows, enough responsibility for the whole Temple, but your lips are still built to smile. It is the face of an honorable man.”

Though Chirrut finished with a grin, all playful delight, his words had a weight neither of them could deny. How was Baze supposed to respond to that? But that was Chirrut, he was coming to discover: Too impish and too serious by turns.

“Now who is exaggerating?” Baze asked gravely, fighting back an even stronger blush.

“Oh no,” Chirrut mock-swooned, “perhaps your charms have blinded me as well as your initiate.”

It was nothing but an old, oft-repeated joke about his sight. Baze knew this. But the slight downturn of Chirrut’s face and the nervous fidget of his fingers as he said it would not leave Baze’s thoughts for a long while.

“Though I am not far gone enough to forget your ears are as large as a loth-cat’s,” he sing-songed, darting out a hand to tweak the offending feature.

Baze could not keep the smile from his voice as he shoved Chirrut’s shoulder and admonished, “You fool.”

Chirrut’s answering laughter echoed like the peel of the morning bells. Full of promise.


End file.
